


Yandere

by RosaKei



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Yandere, but the title speaks for itself eh, i dont really know how to rate this, yandere Armin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:07:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26876413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaKei/pseuds/RosaKei
Summary: Unknown to everyone but his victims, there’s a side to Armin that he dedicates to protecting his beloved.Requested by a user on tumblr; for a yandere!Armin x Mikasa fic.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman/Armin Arlert
Comments: 5
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Copied and Pasted from my Tumblr A/N) : i’m chill with writing yandere stuff i guess? But remember guys, don’t be a yandere in real life lmao. I hope this was okay, considering i don’t really watch/play yandere animes/games?? I think?? Except for the classics y’know, like Mirai Nikki haha. Also, the time period / current time setting of this is messy but shhh.......

**Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan nor its characters.**

* * *

Control.

While many cadets would think otherwise, Armin had always struggled with control, sometimes even more than Eren.

Murderous urges never ceased to come creeping up his spine, crawling its way into his heart; strangling it and _him_ entirely—pleading for him to let them go. To let loose whenever anyone goes a little too close to her; whenever anyone dares to invade her personal space, trespassing in **_his_** territory.

But Armin knew how to play his cards. Behind his innocent and naïve appearance, deep inside the insanity that dances around his heart like a frisky pup, he was an intelligent and strategic man, who knew how to play this game.

Killing Eren was never, could never be an option. Even if that reckless boy dragged Mikasa down into the turbulence that surrounded him, even if that dense idiot carelessly spat insensitive rubbish in Mikasa’s direction, even if one day he might finally become a sensible man, who was capable of loving her—he _can’t_ kill him. And it was not just because they shared a history together, because they shared a bond.

It was because he knew Eren’s death would send Mikasa in a spiral down into the depths of hell or null. He had the horrid chance of witnessing it once; the impact of Eren’s death on Mikasa.

And it was because he loves Mikasa, he didn’t want her to suffer through that again, so he kept Eren and a few others that appeared to be close (but not _that_ dangerously close) to Mikasa. He didn’t, and never wanted to see her hurt. _Besides_ , he would often think, _there are other fathomable and less bloody ways of making her mine, before anyone else._

For now, Armin wasn’t fixated in eliminating the ‘what if’ possibilities where Mikasa winded up with someone else that wasn’t him. For now, he chose to instead focus on his next step in this messed-up game. And for now, in this game, he decided to let them live.

Call him obsessive, but the blonde was lovesick.

Armin didn’t remember how his feelings escalated into this splendid travesty; how this wicked side of him woke. What he did remember was that one day, a day where Eren was absent, a day where it was just the two of them, a day where Armin really had the chance to admire and marvel in the Ackerman’s heavenly presence, did he start to _fall._

“Armin…? Are you alright?” Mikasa asked softly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “You appeared… troubled earlier, was it because you saw him?” The concern emanating from her tone was enough to throw Armin’s senses off a cliff; and that was barely an exaggeration. Anything, and maybe everything that came out of her mouth was considered a melody to Armin.

Her.

_Her._

_**Her.** _

Everything about her was a soothing melody. Her voice, her breath, her heartbeat. Even just her looks. That much was enough to compose a symphony in Armin’s head.

“No… it’s nothing.” Armin assured with a hum as he turned towards her direction, putting on the brightest smile he could manage in the dim-lit room that they were to rest in. For a motel in the underground, this far exceeded Armin’s expectation. Despite the poor lighting along with the peelings of decayed wallpaper hanging loose from the cracked, yellowed walls, Armin had honestly anticipated for the condition of this room to be much worse, with insects possibly crawling about, spiders readying to defend their territory or hunt.

Regardless, as long as Mikasa was comfortable, it was fine.

That aside, the last thing Armin had expected was to see that man who harassed him back then, when he was forced to doll up, dress up as Historia Reiss. Then again, the fact that the two of them were ordered to investigate these parts of the underground for clues regarding a separate issue (one that was fortunately not about Eren being kidnapped, again) was even more unexpected, bewildering even. The crippling world existing on the surface was chaos enough, and Armin would’ve had expected for Levi to keep them around in case that Ripper would show up since they were vital members of his squad. Or at least, not send two cadets on a mission alone, having to navigate the unfamiliar underground the first time by themselves, with a poorly drawn map that could’ve been mistaken with a child’s doodle. Then again, as much as he’d like to question his decision, he didn’t have an opportunity to. _Who knows what was going behind the scenes?_ Armin couldn’t help but ponder.

On the bright side, he was alone with Mikasa.

On the darker side, however…

“If anything, I should be asking you that, Mikasa.” Armin remarked, his smile and other features morphing into something more worried. “You looked… uncomfortable, out there.” It took him every ounce of effort to not let his maliciousness seep through and poison his tone when he thought back to the stares Mikasa received—particularly by one herd of obnoxious barbarians that were bold and _foolish_ enough to cackle out inappropriately snide remarks about her oriental features as they made their way towards the bar.

It made his blood boil.

“…I just don’t understand why people like them exist, that is all. I don’t have time to be concerned with people like them.” She said coldly; a tone and sentiment Armin hoped to never be on the receiving end of. What’d he ever do if Mikasa were to hate him? Or if Mikasa were to find out his… tendencies?

Armin didn’t plan to find out. He was a curious soul, but not that curious.

Slowly, Mikasa shifted herself slightly to the left side of the bed before patting the vacant right side. “Lay down… there’s room. Besides, that couch looks like it could be invested with termites.” She offered calmly, resisting a yawn.

“E-Eh?!” Armin stuttered, face flushed. He had been too busy… scheming, and had forgotten that there was a possibility of them having to share a bed.

It wasn’t the first time but… he wanted to feel her warmth, so badly, so desperately. He wanted to cling onto her, and never, _never_ let her go. He wanted to be close to her, to be overwhelmed by her godly presence again and again. It would just be the two of them. No distractions, nothing.

Unfortunately, Armin had to reject, or rather postpone her offer, as reluctant as he was.

His hand stretched back, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I… would love to, but… I haven’t eaten any dinner yet since we left. I saw a store selling bread nearby, so I’ll head there for a bit.”

“What?” Mikasa’s eyes widened, shocked to hear that he was running on an empty stomach. “I’ll come w—”

“No, it’s fine!” Armin reassured. “You need to… rest. Please.” He didn’t want to trouble her.

Despite his plea for her to rest, she stood up in protest, stomping her way towards him. The fierceness in her eyes clearly made it evident to him that she was against the idea. _Cute_ , he thought. He adored how dedicated and devoted she could be to the people she made room for in her heart, he greatly appreciated her concern, but…

“But it can be dangerous—”

“If I don’t come back within forty-five minutes… then come looking for me.” Armin smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s just a quick stop, and I’ll head back. I can handle my own.”

Mikasa looked at him, stared with him eyes brimming full of genuine worry, concern and conflict. It made Armin’s heart skip and flutter. That look served a reminder to Armin that she cared about him, so much.

After a long tangible silence that stood between them (that Armin didn’t break, couldn’t break. He was too hypnotized by her looks; by her), she finally resigned and with a sigh, “Fine.” She said.

Armin was perfectly capable of handling himself, she knew that. He wasn’t weak. Even if he didn’t excel in physical strength as much as she did, he made it up with his brains; his intelligence that always aid in his and their escape in whatever tricky predicaments.

“But… please,” She muttered, her hands reaching out to grab his free hand, holding them closely, tightly. “Don’t stay out too long… the later it gets, the more ruffians are out there.”

“U-Uhuh!” Armin nodded, savouring her touch, her warmth, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks and a mad rush of blood surging. It was thrilling, and an expression nearly slipped from his control.

_Control Armin, control._ He reminded himself. Now wasn’t the moment for Mikasa to witness how much she had an effect on him. He was practically wrapped around her finger, in some sense, and he didn’t mind. It was relieving, he was glad.

Perhaps if it wasn’t just the two of them, he would have more control about his expressions that had a possibility of exposing what he felt for her. He loved her, but at the same time, what he felt for her was _**more**_ than that.

There was no going back, now.

Once Mikasa had let go, he left, knowing that there was no time to waste.

As he left, he felt a wave of ecstasy swinging within him as he relished the lingering warmth that Mikasa’s hand had imprinted on his. _Ahhhh! The warmth is all the same…_ He thought, humming to himself as he skipped towards his destination. _Her touch is all the same… ah… sometimes I just want it all to myself._

Upon arriving at his destination, his humming stopped, and what took over was a determined look mixed with some animosity. Taking a deep breath as he re-calculated his plans, he entered the bar with a thirst for vengeance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions have consequences, no matter how trivial. That's what Armin believes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Copied and Pasted from my Tumblr): There’s a slight twist at the end?? Sorta. It’s up to your personal interpretation.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan nor its characters.**

* * *

Mikasa could handle her own, Armin knew. Alongside her striking beauty, was her prowess in pure, physical strength. But, that didn’t mean Armin should lower his guard.

It didn’t mean he shouldn’t protect her.

Scanning the crowded room, it didn’t take him long to spot them. Not when the herd of uncivilised barbarians stuck out like a sore thumb, with their yapping and hollering; their disruptive noises that dared ruin his serenity.

They were sitting together, and aside from all the chaos that erupted from their mouths, reverberating about, they were enjoying the sight of voluptuous women putting on a performance in front of them while wolfing down their bottles of beer. The next thing Armin knew, he was eavesdropping.

“What a show!” One of them exclaimed enthusiastically before clapping, “Too bad it wasn’t that oriental lady! Ahh! What a waste, I tell ya!” Armin tensed, his hand diving into the secret compartment of his jacket, searching impatiently for his dagger.

_Wait, no… Control._ He reminded, hand abruptly halting in its search. _Upright killing them in this crowd is silly… and luring them out might take too long… I don’t want to keep Mikasa waiting._ He considered. _That only leaves one other option…_

“Do yer’ think we can get a grab of her? I saw her enter that motel nearby…” His friend hiccupped, taking another swig of alcohol. Cheeks flustering; not because of the alcohol, though. Armin felt his stomach twist. “Her friend looks like a puny piece of shit anyway…” A smirk decorated the blonde’s expression.

“Ha! Why not?” He smirked deviously, “You don’t see Orientals these days… and can yer’ get us a little more alcohol pal? The encore’s gonna start! And then after… I’ll gather the boys and…” The revolting, impure look said it all, and that was enough eavesdropping for Armin, who felt his patience and control thinning; the taut thread waiting to just… snap!

_I’ll kill you._ He swallowed, eying his prey that departed from the pack, staggering towards the counter, bargaining with the bartender for another few bottles. He waited, as much as it pained him, he waited, for the right moment. To make the right move.

Luck seemed to be on his side, given how his doltish and stupid prey appeared to be distracted, his attention being directed towards a pig-tailed brunette who revealed a little too much. Watching his mouth water as he slid himself toward the brunette infuriated Armin; did he think about Mikasa like that, too? His Mikasa?

_Control. Control. Armin, you can’t let loose, yet._ He reprimanded himself, shaking his head, recalibrating himself. Before he knew it, the ugly drunkard and the lady got themselves entangled, swaying back into the crowd.

_Perfect._

“OI!” The bartender yelled at the man, who clearly forgotten his order. “YOUR DRI—”

“I’ll deliver it to them!” Armin exclaimed in an awfully high-pitched tone, eyes fluttering as he emerged from the shadows, twirling his way in front of the bartender who looked at the blonde questioningly. “Oh, come on, I don’t wanna keep them waiting! I want to impress them!” He had his lips pouted out, arms crossed, internally praying he’d buy this gimmick. If he could pass off as Historia with a wig and a skirt, this shouldn’t be that much of an issue. Besides, based on his intuition and gut, this particular bartender didn’t seem like the sharpest man out there; he appeared to be more flippant and frivolous.

“Whatever… I’ve seen too much shit, and I’m not paid enough.” He waved his hand dismissively at Armin, evidently fed-up with whatever he had going on in his life. Not that Armin cared though. He was just grateful that his intuition was right.

“Thank youuuu!” He squeaked, smiling all too brightly, before carrying the tray of beers away.

To a secluded corner, where the edges of his smile sunk, grimly settling into a frown

Quietly, he removed a vial containing a form of floral poison he had extracted from a flower not too long ago. It was back when they resided in the woods with the rest of the squad, when he accompanied Mikasa one day to gather wood.

“Careful!” She warned when the blonde nearly trampled on a patch of violet blossoms. “Those are poisonous…” She explained, before rambling on about how her late mother once told her how these killer flowers were commonly mistaken for another more innocent breed, and how it would irritate your skin, possibly leaving long-lasting scars if you got too close to it. “Poisonous, huh?” Armin said, intrigued. _How… useful._ He didn’t say that out-loud. And it didn’t take Armin long to find out the effects of consuming such a deadly little thing. (How he found out, Armin didn’t have the time to recall his experimentation).

Cautiously, he dripped the deadly liquid into each of the beer mugs, letting it swim and camouflage in the yellow drink, staying hidden, awaiting to strike when indulged. _Luckily I brought this along… You never know what trespassers you’ll meet._ He noted to himself, eying the idiotic bunch.

Taking a deep breath, he continued with his performance.

“Heeeyyyy sirs!” Armin chirped as he skipped his way to the hooligans, wearing a cheeky smile as he set the venomous tray down.

He watched as their eyes watched him carefully, and as he had anticipated, they were too intoxicated to even remember who he was, or the fact that he wasn’t a woman. “Ehhh? What happened to t—”

“Ah, who cares? That bastard’s probably humped himself elsewhere. Tsk!” The man spat, unconcerned with the disappearance of his other friend. “Besidesss,” He droned out, shooting an inappropriate look towards Armin’s direction, licking his lips ravenously. “We got a flat babe here to fool with before we chase the Oriental… c’mon, join us—”

“You should drink first!” Armin insisted, arms and legs both crossed as he continued, “I wanna go wear my specciiaaalll bunny costume for you… _delightful_ men…and maybe get a couple of my friend to join, after all, you guys seem like charming folk!” He persuaded, a slight whine echoing towards the end of his statement.

“Bunny costume eh?” He watched as their face twisted into something nauseating as they let their fantasies run wild.

Disgusting. Impure.—Those were words Armin associated with people like them; people that dared cross that line. Fortunately for him, they’d never have the chance to inflict those fantasies on Mikasa. Not after **this.**

“Be right back!” He giggled, stepping back into the crowd as they raised their jugs, exclaiming eagerly that they have scored one, before chugging all of it down.

“Drunkard fools.” He uttered under his breath, his giggling and cheerful appearance alike coming to a halt, replaced by a cruel yet excited look. Alas, Armin began the countdown.

**10.**

He watched as they continued chattering amongst themselves, full of corrupted exhilaration as they waited for Armin to supposedly return with toys and goods for them to exploit.

**9, 8.**

He watched them starting to shift uncomfortably, _something itched._

**7,6.**

Something was set ablaze in their throats, they first shrugged it off as the burning aftermath of alcohol at 7, but at 6, they started to drown themselves with beer, then water in hopes of extinguishing whatever was burning.

**5,4.**

Then, the world spun before darkness enveloped some of them. The others who were still stubbornly fighting against the flame, refusing to surrender to their abrupt fate, dropped to the ground, one by one, choking. No one paid too much attention, having either assumed they drank one too many bottles or were too engrossed with the music; with their dance to debauchery.

**3.**

They gasped for air. Pathetically, helplessly. Armin watched with elatedness, although he was a little disappointed with himself that he had given them a quick and easy death. If he hadn’t promised Mikasa that he was to be back within forty-five minutes, perhaps blood would’ve been spilled. Perhaps he’d have something else schemed, to drag out their death, to make it excruciating _. Ahhh! What a missed opportunity!_ He couldn’t help but think as he bit his lip, watching their deaths unfold.

**2.**

Everything became numb, from their flesh right to their bones. Everything became limp; everything, all their nerves started to relax itself—settling them down into an ugly afterlife or hell. That was what they deserve.

**1.**

Death washed them over, stilling them completely. _**P-e-r-f-e-c-t.**_ Armin hummed, pleased by the results. Turning away, he snuck his way to the back-exit before anyone could notice that they were, in all actuality, dead.

_I can’t believe I had to use that high-pitched tone… ahhhh! How embarrassing! Not to mention, I still have to buy bread... what a troublesome day!_ He huffed calmly, taking a glance at his watch _. I have eighteen minutes left… geez, time flies too fast…Ah! I should get some bread for Mikasa too!_ He smiled, rubbing the hand that Mikasa touched, feeling and embracing her lingering warmth. _I should hurry…_

He wanted to see her, quickly. To gaze at her undying beauty, inhale the sweet scene her entire being emanated, perhaps to even embrace her… to lay next to her—if Mikasa’s offer was still on the table; he wouldn’t force anything on her.

Never.

“Ah… I wonder if they have the bread Mikasa likes—”

Having been too engrossed in his thoughts about the raven, he had failed to pick-up the approaching, threatening steps that headed towards his direction; failed to be aware of his surroundings.

He had carelessly fallen prey, his words cut off when a _bloody_ barbarian shoved him against the wall face-front, gripping both his hands.

“Y-YOU…! YOU MURDERED THEM RIGHT?!”

_Ah, right. Him._

It wasn’t Armin’s intention to keep him alive out of his own good heart, he thought it’d be humorous to let him be the only one living while his other friends died. It was wicked, sure. But in his mind, it was his own fault for being so careless to leave the drinks right there, in his reach—and maybe Armin would’ve sincerely thanked him for that, if he hadn’t touched _that_ hand.

“I…I saw you serving them that fucking shit!”

His grip was wavering, trembling. Armin couldn’t tell if it was due to some form of developing trauma eating him up, or the fact that he was still drunk. Either way, that wasn’t his primary concern at the moment.

“I…I will kill y—”

“…ouched…th… and…at…he…” Armin’s words were at first inarticulate, as he tried to comprehend the sin that this man had just commit.

_**How dare he.** _

“H-Huh?!—”

Interrupted by a successful kick to his groin thanks to his incompetency of securing his entire body properly, Armin threw him on the ground, his feet crushing his face. “How… dare… you…” His voice started out low as he squatted down, glaring daggers at him while his right hand searched for one of his own.

“W-W—”

“How…dare you touch this hand?” He lifted up his left hand, while his right snatched out a dagger that had been waiting in a hidden compartment of his attire. “You know…? Don’t you know…? I knew you barbarians were idiots but I didn’t expect you to be this stupid… This… _This_ was the hand that she touched… and you—” He pointed the dagger right at his throat, tracing it round and round, finding some amusement as he watched his hunter-turn-prey’s eyes follow the knife, evidently terrified.

“…And you fucking contaminated it.” He cursed, head tilting in this flummoxing being right in front of him. He couldn’t understand nor comprehend how someone could be this impolite, this inconsiderate. Even Captain Levi—who had once lived in this place—never did something so offensive!

“I…I… Y…You’re a sick bastard!” The man choked out; and before he could even have the chance to struggle, the dagger pierced right through his throat.

Armin watched the life drain from his eyes. “Sick bastard…me? But what about you?” He said in an accusatory tone, dragging out the plunged dagger, trailing it around his eyeballs, paying no mind to the blood that spewed out. “I saw that look… you know? The look you and your low-lives gave her... and I heard… what you planned to do to her and oh… did that ticked me off.” He said, an eerie chuckle following after as he aimed the tip of the dagger at the lower end of his eye, tempted to dig it out, and perhaps hang it as ornaments somewhere far away; where that look wouldn’t reach Mikasa.

But alas, he didn’t have the time. There was still the bread.

“Ahhh, I’m going to be late!” He groaned as he stood up, patting off any dirt or dust that stained his clothes; he’d have to deal with the blood later. Albeit, he was careful enough not to let it stain too much on his clothes. “Maybe in your next life, you could be a little more considerate of wasting people’s time… honestly, was seeing your dead friends not enough? Ah! Or you could rot in hell! That way you won’t bother this ‘puny little shit’ anymore… right? Right? Hah!” Armin shook his head, taking one last laugh at his idiocy before strolling off, unbothered to clear the mess. It was the underground after all; decomposing bodies and murders weren’t a rarity. And right now, he doubted the military police would even bother with an investigation, given the corruptness of the system, and the trouble the corps were stirring up.

What a day.

“Hmm… I wonder if the bread shop has that bread she likes a lot…” He hummed.

* * *

Armin stood outside silently. He was a twist of the doorknob away from reuniting with his love.

_It is unlikely Mikasa is asleep, no matter how exhausted she is._ Armin calculated, and then took a glimpse at the edge of his sleeves where a faint crimson stain remained smudged. _The room is dark, it has poor lighting… she won’t see this… then again, she has sharp eyes… ahh… Well, even if she does, I’ll think of a reason… I wouldn’t want to worry her. But if she’s asleep… I’ll just set the bread down and make a run to the washroom._

Taking a deep breath and grasping the packet of loaves, he entered the dimly lit room, closing the door after. “Mikasa… I got you some bread if you want to eat it, oh and it’s not that stale! Even if you’re not hungry, it could be tomorrow’s breakfast before we have to set out in search of those documents…” Armin spoke, settling the package down.

Albeit, before he could do a full scan of the room in search of the raven, he was met with a sharp pair of familiar obsidian orbs that never failed to steal his breathe away. “M-Mikas—”

“You’re… early.”

“I…I didn’t want to keep you waiting…” _She’s close._ Armin noted, feeling her breath brush the exposed surface of his neck; needless to say, it sent a thrill down his spine. It was difficult to contain, control. “I…Is something the matte—”

“No, No… I’m glad, you’re back safe—”

“Your wrist!” Armin gasped; withdrawing himself from his lovesickness the moment his eyes caught sight of a scar that stretched form the top of her wrist to god knows where. _Did… someone come here? Did I miscount? Did I miss someone? I’m sure all of them drank the poison… and I even made sure to get rid of the last… who did it? I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have—… but… who did it? Who dared to touch h—_

“I was… just checking if our gear was working, and I accidentally cut myself.” Mikasa assured, “Even in the dark…” She took a step closer. “Your eyes never miss a thing, do they?” Whether it was meant to be a praise or not, Armin took it as one.

“But don’t worry, I’m fine.” She smiled, hand reaching out for his. And Armin would’ve let her. Hell, did he desire her soothing touch. Words that she can’t say, she made it up for her actions. Armin loved that about her. Just a tight squeeze of her hand on his was already overwhelming, it was heaven and earth and all of serenity. He wanted to feel it, but then he remembered it.

Panicked and instinctively, he took a step back, his hands hidden behind his back.

He won’t let her hands be contaminated too, with that filth.

“A…Armin?”

“A-Ah! No… I’m just a little dirty, that—”

“Not that.” She said, a finger pointing towards the faint smudge on his sleeve. “…Is that…--”

“Jam.”

“Jam…?—”

“The bread shop owner spilled some on me when she was taking the bread. Ahhh, it doesn’t matter now! Geez Mikasa you don’t need to be so worried.” Armin quickly brushed it off. He looked at her worried eyes. “I’m fine, I promise.” _Even in the dark…_ he thought, admiring her eyes as his hand reached out about to caress her cheek, _your eyes are sharp too—_

But froze when he recalled how filthy.

“A-Ah! Sorry… I—” And then, Mikasa nuzzled herself in his palm, Armin’s eyes widened in horror. “M-Mikasa! I’m dirt—”

“It’s fine.” Armin flinched. _What?_ “Because it’s you, it’s fine. I couldn’t care less.”

Armin felt his heart skip, race, palpitate.

He wanted to hold her longer, closer, tighter. He was obsessed. But… he couldn’t risk her noticing that that red patch, wasn’t jam.

“I-I… I’m going to take a quick shower!” He coughed, before forcefully dismissing himself.

Once he closed the door, his back hit the wall and slid down. He held the hand that had the blessing of touching her cheeks. _Were they… pink?_ Armin couldn’t tell due to the lighting. He bit his lip. _I love her._ He couldn’t help but think. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so filthy anymore.

Caressing the hand, he once again savoured the warmth that was there. Never again, was he going to be so careless to let anyone stain it with their own trace of impurity.

_I love her. I love her. I love her, so much_. He bit his lip. _Nobody’s… I’ll make sure nobody will bother you._

_**Nobody.** _

* * *

Mikasa heaved a heavy sigh. _I wonder if that was really Jam… I can’t tell anymore, not in this dark. Not when…_ Her eyes glimpsed at her fresh scar, and while Armin may not notice due to his little adventure that Mikasa was unaware of, there was a faint scent of blood in the air. Not Armin’s, not the man he killed, and not—

_At least he looks fine… he’s…_ Her cheeks blush, as her hand reached out to touch the side that Armin touched. _He’s safe…_

She bit her lip _. I’ll make sure he’s safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Mikasa a Yandere too, hm? Well. I left it ambiguous! So it’s up to your personal interpretation <3
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please Leave a Review! Constructive Criticism is appreciated. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please Leave A Review! Constructive Criticism is Welcomed!


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